


Thanksgiving Day Disaster…

by Sevenwildwaysup



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Humor, M/M, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevenwildwaysup/pseuds/Sevenwildwaysup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael insists on making Thanksgiving Day Dinner…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving Day Disaster…

Title: Thanksgiving Day Disaster…  
Story Type: AU   
Word Count: 2301  
Rating: G…  
Warnings: Humor…  
Beta Queen: bigj52  
Challenge: The Evil Kinney Girls Club ~ November ~ Family Dinners at Deb’s…

 

Summary: Michael insists on making Thanksgiving Day Dinner…

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are property of their respective owners, including, but not limited to Russell T. Davies, Cowlip, and Showtime. The author of this story is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended…

 

**Thanksgiving Day Disaster…**

“Michael, I love that you want to do this for your mother, but it’s a lot of responsibility for you to take on.”

“Ben! I expect you to be supportive, not a naysayer like Brian, Ted and Emmett.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t let anyone help you?”

“I don’t need any help. I’ve seen my mom do this for years.”

“I know. But putting on a big dinner for the whole family can be stressful, at least let me help out.”

“No! It’s going to be fine. It’s just like baking a chicken, only it cooks longer, and I know how to make mashed potatoes.”

“But, you don’t cook.”

“That’s because you always cook, you claim it helps you relax and unwind at the end of the day.”

“Michael. Please be reasonable!”

“Ben! Please stop worrying! Have a little faith in me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Michael. I’m just trying to help.”

“Why can’t you believe in me? Why can’t you be supportive, and do as I ask?”

“Let’s do it together.”

“No! Now I want you to get up tomorrow morning, and go to the Thanksgiving Day Parade with everyone, and I don’t want to see you until three o’clock. Ma always starts dinner at three o’clock, and I plan on doing everything exactly like my mom.”

“I give up! Do you want me to go to the store for you? Is there anything you forgot?”

“Stop treating me like a child! Now go, go and have drinks with the guys. I need to start the pies for tomorrow and I don’t need you here questioning me all night.”

Ben left for Woody’s as Michael pulled out his quickly written-out recipes he’d snuck from Deb’s cookbook. He was fine, pie is easy, especially with pre-made pie crust. He reads, and re-reads everything for the pecan pie and then he knocks the Karo syrup all over his scribbled notes. He picks up all the recipes he copied that are now stuck together and runs them under the faucet to wash off the sticky mess and the ink runs. 

He beats the eggs and sugar together, and then adds the Karo syrup, pouring it into the pie crust over the pecans. Thinking to himself that was pretty easy, he starts in on the pumpkin pies. Same as before, he beats the ingredients together and fills the pie pans. He pops them in the over and sits down to relax, pretty pleased with himself and decides to smoke a joint that Brian gave him eons ago.

In his head he goes over everything he needs to prepare for the next day: mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, green salad, dinner rolls, and the relish tray. Yep, he has everything covered and he wonders why everyone is making such a big deal about this. He just wants to do something nice for his mother, after all she’s been making all the holiday dinners for thirty-five years.

He checks the turkey and finds it’s still frozen in the middle; he was sure he took it out of the freezer early enough, but maybe not. So he has a brilliant idea of putting it in the oven with the pies to help speed up the thawing process. He has to put the pies directly on the bottom of the oven to be able to fit the turkey in, but he thinks he’s a genius. Yep, everything’s under control. So he smokes the rest of the joint, beaming with pride.

The next morning he and Ben get up at five o’clock in the morning. After showering they head out to Deb’s. Michael has everything packed up, so Ben drops him off. Picking up Deb and Carl, they head off to the parade. Michael spreads everything out on the counter and gets ready to go over his recipes again, but as he unfolds the recipes the pages stick together and rip. He looks everywhere for Deb’s cookbook, but when cleaning the house she’d moved it. After looking for an hour, Michael decides he doesn’t need it anyways, it’s just vegetables.

He quickly stuffs the birds with stovetop dressing and slides it into the oven. He’s doing great as it’s only 9:30. So he decides to take a nap because he’s exhausted from making pies last night. He doesn’t wake until he hears his cell phone. It’s noon as Ben asks him how everything is going. Michael cheerfully answers, “It couldn’t be better.”

Ben tells him to call if he needs any help, otherwise everyone is going to hang out and watch football games until it’s time to come over. Brian and Justin excuse themselves, going home to lie down for a nap, or whatever might come up. Michael putters around the kitchen drinking coffee, trying to get back into the swing of everything. He peels the potatoes and sets them aside to boil later, then opens several cans of yams. He slices them, alternating layers of brown sugar, butter and marshmallows. Piece of cake. 

He thought it would be easier if he used canned green beans, he didn’t want to fuss with having to clean them. He covers the bottom of the pan with the green beans then pours cream of mushroom soup over them. He used three cans of beans, so he uses three cans of mushroom soup, and then he covers everything with French’s onions. Perfect. He looks at the clock and sees that it’s two o’clock already, so he puts the casseroles in the oven and cranks the heat all the way up. He relaxes for a minute, turning on the TV and drinking a couple of beers, thinking he has this in the bag. He wonders why everyone was giving him such a hard time.

To make things faster, he decides to beat the whipped cream in the blender instead of the Mixmaster. Deb always whips her own cream for the pies. Michael wants everything to be the same, so he refuses to use canned whipped cream, like Ben suggests. He turns the blender on the highest speed, and then realizes he never put the potatoes on to cook. He pulls out the olives, pickles and cranberry sauce from the fridge and starts opening the cans. He figures fifteen minutes was just the right amount of time for the whipped cream so he puts it in the fridge to stay cold. 

He places the relish tray on the table, admiring his place settings and popup paper turkey in the middle. He’s so pleased with himself, as he pulls the turkey out of the oven. It’s a tad burnt but he’s not worried. His casseroles bubbled over slightly, leaving the house a little smoky from the spills in the bottom of the oven. Everyone arrives at once and Deb’s so proud of Michael for all his hard work. He notices that Ben and Carl are carrying several covered dishes and he gets miffed. Ben decided to help out, making a couple side dishes, after Michael explicitly asked him not to. 

“Michael, it’s just a couple of side dishes. Creamed spinach, roasted rutabaga and parsnips and carrot coolie, and I made stuffed mushroom caps for an appetizer.”

Pouting, Michael makes it clear he’s not happy as he returns to the kitchen. Everyone crowds around the living room, drinks in hand, eating Ben’s mushrooms, watching more football. Brian checks in with Michael, asking if he can help in any way. Justin and Emmett are laughing their asses off, just seeing Brian and Michael in the kitchen wearing aprons.

“I can hear you, you little twat! Don’t think you won’t be punished when we get home.”

More laughter. “I can’t wait.”

Debbie gets up to help, but Michael shoos her away, claiming everything’s under control. He takes the yams and green beans out of the oven. Both look a little soupy and crusty. Brian wonders how something can be burnt and runny at the same time. Emmett offers to help cut the turkey but Michael only snaps at him. He’s starting to feel frustrated by everyone’s generosity. 

“Would everyone shut up and leave me alone! You too, Brian, get out of the kitchen.”

They all have another drink, trying not to notice Michael banging pans around and cursing under his breath. An hour later he calls everyone to the table.

“Oh Michael, I’m so proud of you, you really shouldn’t have done all this.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

Deb finally gets to the table, looks down at all the dishes and thinks, oh God I really shouldn’t have allowed him to do this all by himself. 

Michael smiles at everyone. “Let’s eat!”

The mashed potatoes are runny and hard at the same time; he just kept adding butter and milk, even though they didn’t cook all the way through. The yams smell good, although they’re a little crispy on the top, and when you taste them they’re so sweet you can’t eat them. The green bean casserole is a huge pile of mush, drowning in cream of mushroom soup. Carl pours a generous amount of lumpy gravy on his turkey breast, but it’s still so dry he can’t cut it with a knife. Deb forks her dressing, wondering how you can screw up boxed stuffing.

“Michael, did you follow the direction on the Stouffers box?”

“What do you mean? I just stuffed it into the turkey. Isn’t that what you do with stuffing?”

Emmett frowns. “Usually you add chicken broth and celery, apples, or nuts. You know…”

“Oh, I just figured the turkey juices made it tasty.” 

“Is something burning?”

“Oh damn! I forgot I take the dinner rolls out of the oven.”

Brian offers to get them, but when he opens the over they look black and charred. 

“What temperature is the oven set at?”

“Oh, I just turned it all the way up. I figured everything would cook faster.”

Debbie groans, Emmett rolls his eyes, but Ted and Justin can’t help smirking, trying hard to not laugh outright. 

Brian chimes in with, “Who wants wine?”

They all speak up, needing something to wash down the meal. Besides, they could all use another drink.

“Michael, did you make a green salad?” 

That’s all Brian really cares about, because he doesn’t eat any of that other God awful stuff, even when it’s prepared properly. Michael sets the bowl down on the table. Brian holds up a spoon of wilted lettuce, smothered in salad dressing. Brian looks disgusted, and then says, “At least we have Ben’s roasted vegetables, spinach and carrots.” 

Michael reluctantly brings them over to the table; he didn’t want to serve them, but he realizes he doesn’t have much choice. Justin takes a bit of the creamed spinach, making a face as he swallows it. Brian practically chokes. Covering his mouth with his napkin, he spits it out. 

Ted tries to be supportive. “The olives and pickles are good, and I like how you sliced the canned cranberries evenly with the lines from the can.”

Gus pipes up, “Daddy, can I just have pie? Everything else is really yucky!”

Michael starts removing all the dishes from the table, practically in tears. He just doesn’t understand how everything could have gone so wrong. Emmett brings the pies over to the table. They’re a little burnt on the edges, but how bad can they be? Ben offers to serve while Michael gets the whipped cream from the fridge. He starts with the pecan and the knife won’t even cut the cement-like filling. He smirks and moves on to the pumpkin, which is a little hard to get out of the pie pan. Michael scoops some whipped cream on top and hands it to his mother, sure he’s made something she’ll like.

Deb pokes it with a fork, and tastes a small amount of the whipped cream.

“Michael, the whipped cream has been overwhipped, it’s turned to butter.”

At this point Michael bursts out crying. “I don’t know what went wrong. I was so sure everything was going to be perfect.”

Ben consoles his husband as he looks at everyone, who are still starving. Deb wonders what she has in the cupboards that she can fix to feed so many guests. Just then someone rings the doorbell. 

Michael snaps. “Who the fuck is that? I didn’t invite anyone else.”

Brian jumps up. “That’s for me.”

After paying the delivery boy, him and Justin bring in four pizzas, two buckets of chicken, a couple of tubs of coleslaw, and potato salad, Caesar salad, biscuits and a huge tray of brownies over to the table.

“Dinner is served!”

They all start clapping, glad that Brian snuck off and called the local pizza parlor, saving the day. Michael storms out of the house, embarrassed that his dinner was burnt and inedible. Ben reassures him that everything’s okay and it’s the thought that counts. After all, Deb didn’t have to cook everyone dinner and that was the whole point to begin with. Finally, Ben convinces him to come back into the house and eat some fried chicken and pizza. Eating helps improve his grumpy mood, and thankfully no one else mentions what a complete disaster his Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be.

Afterwards Carl relaxes in his recliner, unbuttoning his pants, just like any other holiday dinner. Mel and Lindsay chase after Gus and JR, as they run around, hyped up on sugar from the brownies. Ted drones on about the stock market. Brian and Justin curl up in the big overstuffed chair, making out while everyone else tries to ignore them. Basically another holiday at Deb’s, with a little extra entertainment thrown in.   
One thing’s for sure, Deb won’t be getting any breaks from cooking in the future.

The End…


End file.
